


The Ways We Fall Apart

by wildchildrun



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, No Homo, Phan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:13:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5241113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildchildrun/pseuds/wildchildrun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey," Dan glances up at him, "So I've been talking to this girl. I think I'd like to have her round for dinner? Maybe later this week if that's alright with you."</p><p>Phil thinks that if his life was a movie, and it certainly felt like one at times, this would be the point where he would say No that isn't alright at all, you're killing me here. This would be the point where he would run over to his best-friend-boyfriend-roommate-coworker-lover-soulmate- and kiss the hell out of him. This would be the point, where he does something other than stare stupidly. </p><p>But, it isn't. The world keeps turning, even if his heart feels like it's dropped to hell, even if he wants to scream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Phil was happy, in a muted and soft way. The television was on, playing some baking show, but they weren't paying much mind to it. Their long legs were entangled under the throw quilt, and their mouths were pressed into lazy smiles. 

"I've eaten too much pizza," Phil groans, "If you sliced me open right now my blood would be pizza."

Dan laughed softly and swayed his knees against Phil's, "Same." 

Phil glances at the television, eyebrows raising at the tension of timed bake-offs. He's about to comment on it, when-

"Huh."

Dan is staring at the receipt, with a weird look on his face. 

"Everything alright?" Phil leans in to look at the receipt, but Dan recoils from the closeness. 

Phil moves back too, pretends he is unaffected by the way Dan jerked backward. Inwardly, he rolls his eyes wonders why the no-homo gene was okay with playing footsie under a blanket, but not sharing headspace. 

"The uh, ha, the girl who brought the pizza, she-" He picked up the grease-stained paper to show Phil a series of numbers written in bubbly round handwriting, "gave me her number."

Phil's eyes flicker for a moment, and he pulls his feet back into his chest. Dan looks at him, slightly confused. 

"Was she cute?" The question leaves his mouth without warning. He looks away, focuses on the contained flames licking and jumping in the fireplace.

Dan's silent for a moment, then he grabs Phil's feet and places them back to where they were. "Doesn't matter." 

He relaxes into the cushions, again. They laugh at the oblivious chefs, and Dan at one point says he wants to try making one of those dishes, and it's snowing out. It would be perfect, but Phil doesn't miss the way Dan eyed the number curiously. Phil guesses that this is where they are now. They're not dating, but Dan probably doesn't want to date this girl either, and maybe he can be okay with that. It isn't a perfect situation, but Dan will come around soon. He hopes.

It lasts four proper months before Dan mentions anything again. 

"Phil, can you come into the lounge a sec?" 

Phil does, slightly bored of editing, and curious to see what made Dan call him. The first thing that comes to mind is moth- and ugh, he hopes not.

"Hey." He's leaning against the door frame, looking at Dan, but Dan isn't looking at him. He's smiling at his phone. 

"Hey," Dan glances up at him, "So I've been talking to this girl. I think I'd like to have her round for dinner? Maybe later this week if that's alright with you."

Phil thinks that if his life was a movie, and it certainly felt like one at times, this would be the point where he would say No that isn't alright at all, you're killing me here. This would be the point where he would run over to his best-friend-boyfriend-roommate-coworker-lover-soulmate- and kiss the hell out of him. This would be the point, where he does something other than stare stupidly. 

But, it isn't. The world keeps turning, even if his heart feels like it's dropped to hell, even if he wants to scream.

"So. How's Wednesday?" Dan prods. 

Phil, nods, mutters about the video he has to finish editing and leaves quietly. He takes his keys and he almost drops his jacket, the one he bought because of the way Dan said it brought out the green in his eyes. The memory makes him angry now. He turns back to his closet, grabs a random hoodie, and then walks out. He knows Dan is wondering where the hell he's going, but he can't bring himself to explain. 

The wind doesn't even bite at him. 

-

When he comes back to the flat, Dan looks up at him with a question in his eyes, but before he can ask his phone dings. He looks down, snorts at something amusing, and doesn't look back up.

Phil closes the door to his bedroom with a little more pressure than necessary. He wants Dan to see it and understand that it's a sign. He waits for Dan to knock on his door all night. 

-

Sleeping alone is not something Phil is used to, but in the week leading up to G-DAY or Wednesday or just meeting Dan's girlfriend, he is forced to get used to it. The night of, Dan complains about cooking alone, but Phil ignores him. 

The meal he makes looks delicious as always, and he sets it up for three and he seems to be shaking with nerves, and Phil just wants to pet his hair and tell him to calm down. But, he guesses that that is not allowed anymore. Guesses, because for fucks sake the rules they have are bendy and broken. 

She comes ten minutes late, which is endearing to Dan for whatever reason, and she's- she's pretty and small. She has a round face and her eyes are more green than blue, and he can't help but compare himself to this pixie who just walked in. 

She isn't rude at all, either. Blunt, but not rude, and he could be nitpicking, but. But of course he is, because he and Dan are together in most ways, minus the label of an official relationship. If he was okay with words meaning nothing, their relationship could be undefined, and it was fine. But, clearly he was delusional.

He's pretty sure she's directed a question at him because there's an awkward silence, and Dan pokes him. 

"Erm, what?"

"Sorry, he's always in the clouds." Dan laughs. 

He shoots Dan a glare, and focuses on her, "Well, how did you two become friends?" She is smiling at him, pleasantly. 

"Friends?" He tests the word out, it feels heavy on his tongue. Not right, but not wrong either. 

"Sorry, I meant brothers." 

This time Dan cringes, and Phil barks out a laugh. That is a gross misuse of the word. 

Before the situation becomes more uncomfortable, he smiles at her politely, "Well, we met on the internet." 

Dan clears his throat, and looks down, "We helped each other with editing and stuff." 

Phil thinks of broken iloveyous muttered into sleepy shoulders, of shared tears, of lazy mornings. Then he thinks before that. He thinks about skype and confessions and seeing each other for the first time. 

It feels like fire. It really does. And he is done. Dan is carrying on the conversation, not lying but not telling the truth either, and it's too much. 

He excuses himself, grabs a hoodie and walks out. 

He gets four consecutive texts; 

did you leave

hello

wtf ?????

okay. be like that. whatever. i thought you cared about things that were important to me, but-

Phil stops reading after that. He turns off his phone completely, checks his hair in the reflection of a mirror, and walks into a bar. 

-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things get worse. and drunker. and jealous-er. 
> 
> and of course less edited yay.

Phil side-steps before walking into the bar, checking his fringe in the reflective window. His eyes are stony and his lips set in a tight line. He forces himself to smile, but it feels plastic and fake. More than anything, he just wants to rip his face off and settle into the shadows. Dan had turned him into a proper homebody, more so than the one he was in uni, and the thought of walking into a bar- alone- on a Thursday, makes his stomach flip with unease.

 

He scowls at the gum covered sidewalk, searching for answers. He finds none. The only thing he knows for certain is that his boyfriend is at home playing the Pretend You're Straight game (created by Lance Bass! Entertainment, and distributed by Wholesale Louis and HarryTM) , and it's fucking cold out.

 

Phil shuffles into the bar with his head down, its nicer on the inside, because of the dark wood, the soft lights, and the lack of pressuring friends. Maybe he's a Cool Bar Guy now. Who knows, this could be Phil's new thing- eight o clock bar visits. He'll look mysterious and interesting, like someone who knows secrets- instead of the guy who is pathetically and hopelessly in love.

 

"'Lo, mate," The gruffness of the barman's voice startles him for a second.

 

"Er, hello," Phil sighs and stares at his palms. He used to draw stars on them when he felt particularly lonely. It's random, but it's all he wants to do now, cover his entire body in stars. So he'll never feel this dark and alone again.

 

"Ya look like yer in need of some liquid fire." The bearded barman pours the whiskey in a glass that looks less than clean, before Phil can tell him he prefers vodka.

 

Alcohol is alcohol, and he can’t be bothered to get prissy about it, he just want's it- wants to burn his memories away, even if it only lasts for a couple of hours.

 

-

 

Three hours later, Phil is sloshed- in a way he hasn't been in a long while. The barman-Finn- is a surprisingly great conversationalist. Phil isn't just saying that because he's drunk- he's pretty sure.

 

"You make _internet videos_ , wow- good on you, mate."

 

"It's the best job in the world. It's how I met my boyfriend." He stumbles on the word, unused to saying it aloud. 

 

 _Ex-boyfriend_? The thought makes him down the drink faster.

 

"You dirty man- I'd bloody well imagine!" Finn leans in slightly, "What's the craziest thing you've ever done then?"

 

Phil crinkles his brow, before starting sarcastically, "I do liveshows where I show my plant collection."

 

"Mad respect, Striker."

 

-

 

Six hours later, Phil is kind of dizzy from all the drinking.

"You're great! Like.... the greatest." His mouth feels like its filled with cotton and marbles, but it's okay. Everything is okay, and beautiful. (And also, spinning.)

Finn says something that might have been a joke, but honestly Phil can't bother deciphering his accent, so he just repeats himself.

"YOU'RE FANTASTIC."

"Striker, yer a weird one. And while I certainly am chipper an' happy to hear yer drama with pretty boy, last call was bout an hour ago."

"Okay, I understand Finn, but I'm coming back! I won’t be as sad I hope, I hate being sad, but I love him. So much it’s crazy, so so much I love him."

"Oi, if pretty boy don't see what a proper gent y'are he's missing out, mate."

He says something else, but it is lost in the accent, so Phil just smiles and nods. He pats Finn on the shoulder, and stumbles off the chair. Hard.

 

- 

Light. Noise. And the grumbles of a loud bearded man.

Not the way Phil has ever tried to relieve a painful hangover- and rightfully so, it makes him roll over and tuck his face into the cushions.

And then, "Striker- er, Phil, I guess, your mate is a touch on the mental side of the crazy spectrum and I'd well apreaciate you waking up."

Phil sideeyes the man to the left of him, and his eyes grow wide. Last night comes crashing back to him, in snippets.

"Jesus, what time is it?" He groans.

"Just about eleven," Finn passes him water, "You almost passed out, and so I let you kip ‘ere for a night- I live on top of the bar.”

Phil mutters his thanks, and drinks the water greedily. His throat is sore but mostly his head pounds intensely. 

"I texted your friend- he was buzzing you all night in my defense, and said you were staying here," He continues, a slight laugh in his voice, "Bad idea."

 

**Dan Howell:**

whatever i forgive u just come back

 

**Phil Lester:**

hey mate striker is asleep call in the mornin have a gud 1

 

**Dan Howell:**

who thhell is this????

 

**Phil Lester:**

 finn

 

**Phil Lester:**

bartendin legend

 

**Dan Howell:**

where is phil & why is he with you

 

**Phil Lester:**

the boy got a little too drunk

 

(video.003)

 

Here, Finn included a three second video of Phil's face smushed into the couch cushions.

 

**Dan Howell:**

where d you live. im coming to pick him up

did he ask for me??

Is he ok 

well we're close, and i'm worried about him. please ?

 

 

Finn starts, "I was tired and fell asleep, soz."

Phil rubs his eyes, and says it's okay. He stares at his phone, and presses Call Dan Howell. Even when they’re fighting, he feels crap for doing this to Dan.

 It gets picked up on the first ring.

"Hey?"

"Jesus, Phil. Jesus." He sounds a little broken, and it tears at Phil. 

 "I'm- I'm coming home now, and I'm fine, just have a hangover."

"I'll get you advil. And some concealer."

"Thanks. Wait, why?" 

"Hickeys. Obviously. Didn't think you were into barmen." He sounds hurt. 

"I didn't- it wasn't like that." Phil wonders how his life turned into this- trying to quell the love of his life's jealousy, despite him breaking things off. 

"Oh." Casual. "Oh, good."

Phil rolls his eyes, hard, but controls the urge to yell.

Neither of them hang up. And, then-

"I was scared."

"I'm sorry."

"I-I..just" His voice fades, "Come back quick, yeah?"

"Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do i continue????????????????????????????????????  
> i feel like this chap sucked :( but i wanted to give u something for being kind in the comments. 
> 
> does anyone still like this LOL bye


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OOhh what happens more drama more spice heck yes. HEcking heck yes a heckaroo yea

 

The problem with Dan and Phil, wasn't that they _couldn't_ talk through their issues. It was that they, just, well. Didn't know how to. Instead of talking..

Dan would lock himself in his room, listen to a playlist he called 'UGH' which was full of slow and sad music that bored Phil.

Phil would just _fake_ everything. Inside- he would be a mess, dark, moody. Outside, he would appear calm- placated.

But, Phil was getting older and Dan knew Phil, like in a Best Friend-y type way, and they both decided to cut the shit and actually-gasp-talk.

It was a mutual thing after about two days of silence and tension. They both kind of looked at each other with tightly closed lips and red rimmed eyes, because being upset is fucking exhausting, and then one of them sighed without breaking eye contact.

Phil leaned back on the counter and raised an eyebrow. Dan crossed and uncrossed his hands. They both started at the same time, and then paused.

"You go first."

"I don't think I have anything to say to you, to be honest, Dan. So. You go first." Phil was a gotdamn liar, but he didn't care. He was hurting, and not the one who got a fucking girlfriend, and not the one who messed everything up- Phil took a breath. Calm and collected Phil stood in front of Dan, now. 

Dan inhaled sharply, and nodded. "So, like. What, are you gonna move out?" Dan's brown eyes focused on a specific piece of broken tile on their kitchen floor.

"D'you want me too?" Phil willed Dan to look at him, but it wasn't working. It never did. 

"I- _no_. No." Dan rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and sniffled, "I'm confused, too." 

Phil wasn't like some cold-hearted asshole. Dan was his - he would figure out how to finish that sentence one day. But however it ended Dan was important to him, and seeing him teary and sad was kinda bruising his heart a little. His arms opened before his brain could tell them NO, NOT NOW ARMS, THAT IS NOT HOW PEOPLE ARGUE. 

Dan fell into his arms, and Phil felt his heart lurch. He remembered 2009, when Dan was so much smaller, he remembered anime marathons, soup in winters, Jamaica, Japan- the best place he had ever visited, with his best person, and despite his brain being all confused, his hands were not. They closed around the sniffling warmth that was his-. He would figure it out. 

Phil was pretty sure he would start crying, too, because like. Were they breaking up? Could you break up, if you're not actually together? 

He pushes Dan off, slightly, and decides to ask, because ignoring things never worked out for them. 

"Is this us breaking up?" 

Dan looks betrayed. 

Phil is starting to get pissed off and will probably need to nap soon, because he is experiencing so many emotions. His brain supplied the helpful image of an iPhone charger that recharged your emotional needs, but like where would it enter- _not the right time Brain._ Jesus. 

Phil was brought back to the present by the sound of Dan hiccuping.  

"Dan, stop looking at me like that. You got a girlfriend. We broke up, then. Or at least I broke up with you." He tries to sound emotionless. Phil can't tell if its coming across well. 

"I only got a girlfriend, Billy, by the way because our relationship makes no fucking sense, Phil." 

"That isn't good enough. You cheated on me. I think." 

Dan practically shouts, "I didn't cheat on you! Because we're not technically together."

Phil is starting to lose his calm and collected voice, "Fuck off, Dan. Fuck you, really." 

This time when he leaves, he forgets a jacket. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah heres an update AFTER A YEAR i know *jean-ralphio* Im the woooorst 
> 
> IF UR STILL READING AND CARE FOR AN UPDATE LET ME KNOW. if no one is left reading this i may abandon it bc i thrive on feedback and validation. AIGHT PREPARE FOR THE ANGST TRAIN. headed for yo brain. oo ryhmes. im so tired.


End file.
